**ANASTASIA**
ROME, ITALY
The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the spacious bedroom. I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts racing. Last night felt like a strange, vivid dream, but waking up in Dante's house confirms the reality of my situation. Sharing a bed with him was uncomfortable, but he kept his word—he didn't touch me. Still, the tension between us was palpable.
I slip out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Dante, and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As I brush my hair, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are puffy from crying, and I feel a mix of anger and sadness. I need to get out of this house, if only for a few hours, to clear my head.
My phone lits up and I see a text from Mila. I smile before reaching for my phone.
Mila: He had better be treating you right. How is it going love? I miss you already.
I type back "I'm losing my mind and I miss you too." in response before placing my phone back on the counter. I miss her so much already.
After dressing in a simple blouse and jeans, I make my way to the kitchen. Beatrice and Chiara are already there, preparing breakfast. I furrow my brows in confusion, that's Cecilia's job, isn't it?
"Good morning, Anastasia," Beatrice greets me. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Good morning," I reply, forcing a smile. "Yes, please."
"Um, where is Cecilia?" I ask.
"She's uh, she has um... She has a serious cramp this morning, so she's res...resting." Chiara stammers.
I stare between her and Beatrice. She looks at Beatrice and they make a silent communication which causes me to be more confused and suspicious. I don't probe further though.
As Beatrice prepares the coffee, I glance around the kitchen, appreciating the modern design. It's a far cry from the traditional, cozy kitchens of Moscow. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I turn to see Dante entering the kitchen, looking as composed as ever in a crisp suit. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, we just stare at each other.
"Good morning," he says, his tone neutral.
"Morning," I reply, unsure how to break the ice. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words. Beatrice places the cup of coffee on the counter and sensing the tension, she and Chiara quickly excuse themselves, leaving us alone.
"I want to talk to you about something," I begin, trying to keep my voice steady.
Dante raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I want to continue my fashion business here in Italy."
He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. "I had a feeling this would come up." He takes a seat at the kitchen island, motioning for me to join him. "We need to discuss some conditions."
I nod, feeling a glimmer of hope. At least he's willing to consider it. "What conditions?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
"First, you'll need a bodyguard. I'll send my most trusted soldier to you." he says, his tone brokering no argument. "For your safety. You'll be moving around in an unfamiliar territory, and I can't risk you becoming a target to my enemies."
I roll my eyes. Or course, he's concerned about his own warfare and not my well-being. What was I expecting?
I frown, not liking the idea of being constantly watched, but I nod. "Fine," I agree reluctantly. "And?"
"Second, you'll partner with a company I trust,"
"Wait, what? Why do I have to work with a company you trust?" I try to protest, but Dante raises his index finger, signaling for me to be quiet.
Dante continues, "I won't have you dealing with anyone who might have ulterior motives, Anastasia. You're the wife of a don, and if you're not careful, you could cause problems for me. It's either you agree to this or forget about the whole thing."
I bristle at the implication that I can't handle my own business affairs, but I hold back from arguing. "Which company?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even.
"Lorenzo Fashion House," he replies. "They're reputable and trustworthy. I'll set up a meeting with them today."
I nod, swallowing my pride. "Why Lorenzo Fashion House, though? What if I don't like them?"
He shakes his head. "The question should be, 'What if they don't like you?'"
I frown. "My business may be small, but I'm good at what I do."
"I'm sure you're aware of how big Lorenzo Fashion House is," he cuts me off. "Your business is still small, and they don't typically partner with smaller enterprises."
I clench my fists, struggling to keep my growing anger in check. "I never asked you to partner me with them in the first place."
"Do you want to sit around doing nothing, then?"
I frown and look away. My fashion business may not be very big, but I'm proud of what I've built. I love what I do. I was working with a fashion house back in Russia, and even though it wasn't huge, it was successful. It will be difficult to work with them now that I'm in Italy, that's why I cannot continue with them. They do not have a branch here either.
"It's only to keep you busy, Anastasia. It's not like I can't provide for you," Dante says with a shrug.
I frown even harder. I still can't understand how our men think. They marry a woman and expect her not to work just because they have money? My papa always liked that my business wasn't very big. He said it would attract less attention from enemies and even suggested I manage one of his casinos instead. How absurd.
I sigh. "Fine. If that's the only company you're comfortable with, then I'll work with them."
Dante studies me for a moment, as if searching for any sign of rebellion. When he finds none, he nods. "Good. The car will take you to the fashion house this afternoon. I will take care of things from this side, you should be able to handle the rest on your own."
I look away, unable to respond. I hate the control he's exerting over my life.
After breakfast, Dante heads out for a meeting, leaving me to explore the house. Beatrice and Chiara shows me around, but my mind is preoccupied with the upcoming meeting at Lorenzo Fashion House. It's my first real step toward regaining some semblance of control over my life, and I'm determined to make the most of it.
It's going to be a busy week then. I'll need to hire new staff and make sure I can secure a good spot in Lorenzo Fashion House. It won't do any good if my space is hidden away inside the building, making it hard for people to find.
As the afternoon sun starts to dip, casting long shadows across the city, I prepare to leave for the fashion house. Just like Dante had said, a young man comes out to follow me.
"My name is Alessio." He introduces himself.
I sigh, "Try not to follow me into the restroom, Alessio." I say with sarcasm.
He smiles, "You are my boss's woman, I won't dare."
I roll my eyes as I slide into the back seat, watching as he walks over to the front passenger seat. The driver starts the car, and we begin to move.
After a while, the car pulls up to the building, and I step out, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The modern glass facade of Lorenzo Fashion House looms before me, reflecting the bustling city around it.
As I enter the building and head to the elevator, I notice a familiar figure waiting beside me. There's something about him that I recognize. He stands with his hands in his pockets, accompanied by another man.
The elevator doors open, and we all step inside. Alessio stands beside me, positioning himself between me and the familiar figure. A key falls from the man's hand, and as he bends down to pick it up, I catch a glimpse of his side profile and gasp. That face... it's very familiar.
He stands back up, his hands back in his pockets. I shift slightly to get a better look at his face, and my heart skips a beat when I realize it's him—the guy I had a one-night stand with in Russia, Luca. What are the odds? I didn't expect to see him again. I try to look at his face again but Alessio keeps blocking my view.
I sigh and stay where I am. It's probably better if he doesn't notice me. I wouldn't know what to say or how to react if he did. It's not that I'm ashamed, but what would I even talk about with a stranger I slept with? My mind replays the memories, and I can feel my cheeks flushing. I quickly look away, fixing my gaze on the elevator doors.
Just then, the elevator doors open and we all step out. Suddenly, a part of my dress gets caught in the closing doors, pulling me back and causing me to trip. Just as I'm about to hit the floor, a hand grabs my waist, catching me in time. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking Alessio must have saved me. I could have seriously hurt myself.
I open my eyes, and the sight before me almost makes me forget to breathe. It wasn't Alessio who caught me.
"Careful, redhaired," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. Redhaired—he remembers me. Oh no. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I can almost hear my own heartbeat. This is not good.
XOXO